The Truth Hidden Within Her
by misamisachna
Summary: The heart can only take so much before it can break. How can someone be considered so awful to so many in this world, yet be the most important creature in my life? Why does it have to hurt with her gone? What is one more drink to stop the pain. This takes place in an Alternate Universe. Steampunk. Death. FrUk, Fem France x England


(Disclaimer: I do not own the characters as they belong to their creator Hidekazu Himaruya. I will warn now that it is filled with sadness and might cause tears to fall. There is character death. Please tell me what you think of it. I know it has been a long time since I have written or posted anything just I hope you enjoy it.)

The scent of roses, tea, blood, and salt filled the British gentleman's senses as he entered into his study. His evergreen eyes glanced around the room as his heart filled with dread as he knew she had to be in this room. Slowly, he stepped around the small room listening to the soft sound coming from the gramophone set off to the corner of the room which was playing Winter's Waltz. A sickening feeling of fear and dread turned in his stomach as he stepped toward his desk to find a jar black ink had spilt across a few pieces of paper. The only on one of the pages held some what legitable words as the rest of the papers had warped from the mostly damp ink and water droplets had mixed it quietly. All he could do as he afraid to touch the paper at this moment for it could tear was mouth out the written words, 'I am sorry Arthur, I love you so much. -Clairice.' Tears started to stream down his cheeks as he glanced over his shoulder toward the loveseat. Only to notice a glimmering white mass draping down onto the floor. Growing pale the man turned around hastily walking to the love seat, crumbling to his knees as his fears had been realized. Carefully gathering the limp figure into his arms he could only beg and cry for her to wake and to be alright as he held the woman. The woman was still warm in his arms, but there was no pulse, no breathing, nothing to prove she was even living just mear moments ago, but for her body heat. He simply held who was his bride-to-be in his arms crying while he rocked in his arms nearly hysterically begging for her to wake up. In his mind, he kept repeating to himself, 'She was only playing that at any moment she would open her eyes to reveal glimmering blue eyes like that of the ocean in the calm before a storm. She will embrace me telling me how excited she is to marry me.' He stared at her face waiting for just those reactions only to notice the blackened liquid that had dried onto her lips. His heart all, but shattered knowing that her sickness had finally caught up to her. With his head resting against hers, with his eyes closed he whispered into Clairice's ear, "I love you too my darling, and I forgive you."

After ten to twenty minutes of holding his beloved in his arms, reluctantly he laid his bride back down onto the small sofa taking off his black tailored long coat to drape over her as if to make him think she was asleep before looking toward his desk. Slowly he stood up doing his best not to disturb her resting place. He walked near it keeping his head down. Noticing a slender black object that glistened against the burgundy carpet, slowly he knelt down to pick up the fountain pen that had fallen to the floor from probably when Clairice had dropped it in in her need for air, before her last moment to rest on the sofa. Gingerly, he held the black fountain pen in his left hand he rummaged through the drawers of his desk in search of a few clean pieces of paper to write one last departing message to this world that he intended to fade from as well. Before he switched the pen into his right hand, he found himself staring at a hard polished oak case on the left corner of his desk, the cover of the case was a map of the world during the colonial period engraved and painted into the case trimmed with brass. Pulling it toward him his fingers traced over it as it was a gift from his dear Clairice before he cut back on drinking, slowly he opened it up the case to pull out a glass bottle that was stained a yellowish brown that contained a darker brown liquid in it. pulling upward on the container's lid with a popping sound the smell of scotch filled his senses as he started with a couple of sips. After a moment or two he glanced to the lifeless figure tearing up as he started to dip his pen into the jar of ink that remained to write. As he wrote, his mind started to spin into his memories to figure out how he had met the angel that had brought him so much joy, but yet inflicted him with so much pain that it was unbearable to even imagine living on.

Images of a masquerade ball filled his memories though the details of what occasion was not exact. He remembered for the most part it was an event during a festival of some sort. His older siblings had talked him into going to that particular party. He let out a laugh as his older brother had dressed him in a black and red colored captain seafarer's jacket with silver accents. His costume layered with belts, sashes, various props, even black short heeled boots. The hat he wore was black and silver with long ostrich feathers that draped down the back of the hat. Arthur let out a small laugh at the memory as he thought he looked ridiculous wearing the outfit with a mask that was formed to look like top a skull. It stopped along his cheek bones allowing his jaw to move freely without the obstruction of his mask. Bright green eyes shone through the shadow casted by his hat. It could be translated to a man who was mischievous, yet at the same time mysterious. None of the women seemed to catch his interest in bright colors that gandered at him, it was a curiosity to him wondering how she caught his attention. How a woman dressed in a dark grey gown with accents of teal and gold in a not so modest fashion with her corset and bustle like that of an entertainer,. He was captivated by honey locks up in a bun with her bangs in ringlets that framed her mask which was sleek and appeared to be gold in color with blackened engraved markings that fanned around her eyes He remembered how she resisted his advances for over half of the evening taunting his every move. She encouraged his every advance only to sway from him as if he was a ghost. Her dance card was slowly becoming full as men kept trying to dance with her. She some how gave him a dance, he wasn't sure if it was for he kept offering her to enjoy glasses of white zinfandel with him or for he kept trying. He the remembered a flurry of colors, their laughter, the spinning and swaying to a fast tempoed song. They had slowed down to dance to a Winter's Waltz which seemed to fit them perfectly making them feel at peace. The slow waltz made him nervous as they were now trying to dance without stepping on one another's feet. Arthur pulling out of that memory was smiling and laughing a bit as he took another drink of scotch as he scribbled onto the paper. His heart pulled tighter as he started getting lost in his thoughts once more.

After the ball his obsession for the woman who never told him her name all he could think about was her glimmering blue eyes that made him fall into a helpless love. He was struggling as he fought with his older brothers whom told him that she was out of his reach. He soon started writing poetry of the woman who ensnared his heart like that of a demon who would easily pull an angel down into the pits of hell to burn. He wanted her name as he not was privileged to see her without the mask that hid her face. The pain inside of his heart soon felt like that of a sickness as he was pulled to a small burlesque saloon by his brothers to enjoy a drink as it had been over three weeks since he had left their home to socialize. His heart started to pound as he glanced to a stage to hear a melodious voice that seemed to pull him to watch. Her voice seemed to pull her audience to watch her sing Danger on the Dance Floor. Her clothing was copper, brass, dark rusty red, and black in color that intertwined in delicate lace, clasps, ruffles, and satin like materials. Her bodice traced with copper colored lace against rusty red satin. Her black ruffled skirt was short in the front and long in the back to drag onto the floor. Brass accents covered her body to look as if her body was done to look like a clockwork doll as she sang and swayed on the stage. After that night he would visit the saloon sending her a calla lily as a token of endearment.

He blushed at the memory as courting this woman was a challenge as he remembered when he finally got her to realize it was him the man she teased all evening at that party. Her heart started to sway to his charms as she agreed to going to a Threepenny Opera with him. He remembered how she even though it was something so trivial to him how emotional she was to be given the opportunity to watch. He started to question though for she would start coughing up small amount of blood gasping for some air. He wanted to ask her about it, but figured that could wait for another time as she seemed to handle it fairly well. He had to admit that her smile warmed his heart making him want to know more about her, but he was unsure how to ask about this. He whispered into her ear how beautiful she was in a simple blue grey blouse, a black cincher and long green skirt that went to her ankles with a pair of black ankle heeled boots that buttoned up the sides. Her hair was pinned up into spiraling curls that seemed like they would forever stay in place as her makeup had small black streams that ran down her cheeks as she did cry during the opera. Arthur's smile slowly faded away as the memory went away to him tearing up once more as he was reminded that she was gone. He took another deep drink from the bottle as tears were starting to blind him as he wrote more to his poem scratching out lines here at there.

Arthur struggled with his tears as he coughed and cried out for his beloved hating to admit it that he knew she was sick. Inside of his heart he knew that she wasn't going to make it to a long life. She was only seventeen years old, she was his bride after he pursued her months to join him. He started to remember how he had proposed to her on that warm autumn day those blissful few months ago. His eyes went closed as he remembered her shining smile as he took her to the coast for a picnic which was filled with its problems. Mainly it was a broken carriage wheel that put a slight damper on the beautiful day. He remembered her white long sleeved blouse, long green skirt, dark grey cincher, a broach with her hair up into a French twist bun. His heart pounded as he remembered they got to where they were sitting down under a large willow tree with a cream blanket on the ground eating croissant turkey sandwiches with cranberries, a very soft cheese, and lettuce. He remembered how she made some green apple tarts, brought some cheese, wine, and various types of fruit. His eyes shown with determination as he remembered pulling her into a lovingly gentle kiss as he whispered into her ear, "My beloved Clairice, I know we may not of know each other for no more than a few months. I love you so much that I would do anything for you." He paused with a shaky breath as he looked into her eyes, "Will you marry me?" He smiled as she cried out, "Oui of course I would marry you my darling Arzur!" He remembered her crying out blubbering into a mixture of French and English that had turned the burlesque entertainer into an emotional mess.

Arthur opened his eyes feeling his breathing becoming shaky as he coughed into his sleeve seeing the same blackish blood that was on his beloved's lips. He knew as she had tuberculosis all those months ago, but he didn't want to believe that she was ill. He looked down nearly in tears as he stared at his desk that was scattered with open letters, ink stains, quills, various books, as well as photo of the two of them together in an unconventional pose of them facing toward each other as their hands were linked together with a gentle smile. He remembered how she talked about wanting a child of her own to love and hold. It was painful as he wanted to give her the family she always had wanted. He tried hard not to tear up as he made a promise to her that she wouldn't be alone even when she passed away. He remembered when he had pried about her past to such an extent to find out about her childhood and family. He wanted to bring her into a family as she had no one. He recalled her mother had died of a sickness when she was six, her father was a thief who went to a prison somewhere and none of them had heard from him since. Her older brother Francis had abandoned her after selling her to a brothel at thirteen as he married off to someone and lived comfortably. He was trying hard to see a silver lining in the situation that was his fiancé's life.

Slowly he picked up his poem that was written in run on words, pain filled tears, the occasional droplet of blood. Carefully as his breathing was labored as he coughed up more blood into his sleeve trying to rewrite the final product in hopes to be his last great work. A heavy pain filled his heart as he reread it trying to come up with a title to what he felt to be his perfect tribute to his love for a woman that the world saw as nothing. Walking toward the small love seat that his beloved seemed so peaceful resting on. Carefully he picked up the woman to lay her against his chest as tears streamed down his cheeks. His heart slowed down as he kept the poem in between both of their bodies as he fell into a sleep that he knew he would never wake up from. It could have been blamed on his sickness for his untimely passing, but it was more likely a broken heart.

As the hour drew near to the couple's wedding, it was the screams of shock to find the couple in each other's arms cold and lifeless, but still seeming to be held in a loving embrace. It was Arthur's older brother who moved over to the departed couple to notice a paper pressed between the couple's chests. He at first quietly read the story to himself to the shock. Soon, tears streamed down his cheeks as he read aloud the secret the slightly crumpled paper had hidden to the shocked guests who stared at the departed lovers who could almost be compared to the classic romance Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare;

"The Truth Hidden Within Her"

To the blue eyes who had seen the perils of hell, with her voice there was never a quam she could not quell.

The screams of agony and pain all around her could hear, with eyes as that of a the raging sea she stared into the face of agony not to quake with fear.

All around her human beings could only see a lowly whore, never to image for her push up to want something more.

If her glimmering eyes were ever to fade away, then the moon itself would have to decay.

From the first moment I saw her smile, that sent my life to feel all the more worthwhile.

Now that her eyes no longer glimmer, her smile no longer shimmers.

My heart will forever halt, as we are one up to a fault.

My darling Clairice I shall meet you once more, in heaven we shall waltz through his gracious door.


End file.
